


Arrival

by Stedler2 (k9cat)



Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I hope you guys like this, This is supposed to be fluffy, and i think it stays that way, but not that bad i think, but they are learning still, head canons also included, its just one big happy family, just updating the tags, let me know if there is anything else to tag, there is one instance of a panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k9cat/pseuds/Stedler2
Summary: What happens when a new aspect develops?Not much really, it's just like having a sibling you didn't know you had until they were there. A crowded kitchen, a well worn sofa and a bedroom door waiting to be opened for the first time.A somewhat coherent plot of the first few months around the time Anxiety was personified.





	1. Creation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my first fic for this community and I hope you guys like it.  
> I don't have a beta reader and this was written within this past two weeks-ish, so any grammar and or spelling corrections are welcomed since I don't catch them all. 
> 
> Enjoy reading!

Morality noticed it first, the little outline of a new door taking shape in the wall.

Creativity noticed soon after, the colour started to shift to a more solid tone than the colours around the baseboards that formed, he was excited to say the least.

Logic did not know what to think of it, having never seen a door form out of the wall. He noticed it when the simple panelling of the door itself started to form, deepening in tone from the wall around it.

~

“I do not understand, why is a door forming in the wall?” The youngest, soon to be second youngest, aspect of Thomas’ personality asked after staring at the dark wooded door grow the grain of a bedroom oak.

Morality looked up from the newspaper he was reading the comics from, smiling. “Its another aspects door. Thomas is always growing and maturing, and as a manifestor, be able to create a form for the important parts of his being. It dose take some time, but he’ll be here soon enough.  I know Princey is excited to meet another aspect, and I’m excited to see you see how an aspect forms.”

“Why are you excited for me?” Logic asked confused.

“You are currently the youngest, its new for you. I know I was curious to see Princey’s door form and what it would behold.”

“You did not know what aspect was forming?”

“Not at first no, the door tells a lot about the aspect though. Like how my door is a welcoming front door, Princey’s is a regal carved door, and yours is entirely practical and simple. So far, this door is simple, but not like yours, it has some square panelling being carved, but not to the extent of Princey’s, it will definitely be an emotional driven trait, that I can tell for sure, I’m not sure on the thinking part, but nothing to the extent of you for sure. The dark colour is different though.”

“Do you know what the colour means?” Logic asked, head tilting to see if the different angle would make a difference in perception.

“No, I don’t know, we will just have to wait.”

~*~

 

“Do you recall first stepping out of your room?” Princey said from the sofa he was seated on with his mirror in his lap combing his hair, distracting Morality from his reading. “I know I remember mine, swinging the door open in a grand entrance to greet the world-”

“Only to find me.” Morality replied, drowned out by Princey.

“-Only to find you, sometimes I wish I was formed later, but as the Prince I must take my lot in life and do my job. What good is a young Prince anyways? Not much really, you can’t weld a sword when your young.” He lamented to himself mostly, getting distracted by the mirror. 

Morality smiled as Princey got lost in his looks once again. He cast a glance toward the almost finished door, simple frame and it looked like the usual four panel bedroom door. Except for the colours, it was a blue so deep and dark it looked like black. The only bright spots were the almost finished gold hinges and handle, the same brilliant shimmering yellow tones at the rest of the aspects doors, the one thing to tell for sure that this was an aspect of Thomas important enough to be personified by the manifestor.

~*~

 

It was an unspoken thought that they all stayed in the commons area as much as possible the closer the new door got to being complete. In exception for when being summoned by Thomas or they absolutely could not do there work in the commons.

 It was a relaxing evening, as they were all in the commons entertaining themselves, quiet inside to match the peace outside. Creativity was doing his best to compose music, Morality was going over the crossword in the paper and Logic was scribbling down in his notebook notes probably about what ever Thomas needed to think upon the next day.

They all heard the click of the door unlocking. All focusing in on the door that is now finished, gold handle gleaming immaculate and midnight blue black door not scuffed from age. They waited. There was no grand entrance to a new world, of a controlled and measured wave and polite hello, or wonder filled excitement at the exploration of a manifestors first aspect. The handle didn’t even turn, no sound came from behind the door, nothing. Morality frowned, this was not what he knew. He saw Logic frown from the corner of his vision and check the time once again and jot down some more notes. He looked to Princey, eyes meeting. The fanciful prince gave a worried look back, this also was not what he knew of. Thomas was such an outgoing person, in the right situations, as they all reflected that in their own ways. If the trend continued, shouldn’t this aspect also reflect the positive and happy outlook Thomas always did his best to show despite how nervous it always made him?  Something was not right, he stood up and approached the door. Hearing the others shuffle behind him, he knocked. The handle turned and the door creaked open just enough to peak in.

~*~

 

His thoughts were floaty, and that worried him.

He worried about his floaty thoughts and why he didn’t know anything else, and why each time he seemed to gain a sense of awareness rising from a darkness, it felt like he was being stitched together.

The worry grew, he worried why it felt like burning when he breathed for the first time, and why he knew what burning was in the first place, and why his body ached when he knew he has not yet moved. He was also anxious, anxious for what he was to be doing, because he must be for something if he was going to be here, and if not, then why?

But he was comforted in simple ways. His breathing stopped feeling like burning, and he relaxed his sore frame when he felt a soft pillow beneath his head and a warm quilt drape itself over him.  He was content to sleep in the shadowed area around him.

He woke up- unpleasant shapes behind his eyes taunted him as the scratching of deciduous boughs scraped his window. Rain and wind blowing around the dark outside was a howling laughter to match the pointing fingers and whispered judges behind his back looking at everything he has yet to do. He was worried, he was scared, he was anxious.

He was Anxiety.

The burning breathing came back and he couldn’t help the wet tears from trailing down his face no matter how many times he wiped them away with his hoodies sleeve, but he knew he was better than that, able to control it. When to let it give, and when to hold it back. He knew when worrying was good, when to be scared and anxious about stuff and ideas and actions. Of course he knew so, he was Anxiety, it was his job to know so. Salty tears dried, and the wind stopped howling, the rain a soft patter, content once again to lay down in his bed under a quilt of the night sky. He drifted in bubbling thoughts of this and that, situations passed and to come, of what may be said wrong and what actually could have gone better. So tired and yet not able to actually fall asleep.

There was a knock at his door and light spilled in.

~*~

 

Surprised by the creak the door made he jumped back, bumping into Princey and Logic right behind him. A small whispered spat ended with them moving back an inch, all curious about this very different situation. Wrapping a hand around the edge of the door he leaned in, spying a room just as dark as the door. Faint light coming from a window showing a clouded over night of rain. He stepped in, opening the door ajar enough to let the three of them quietly file in. Light from behind illuminating a bed with a blanketed figure on it.

“Uh, hello?” He spoke up softly to match the room. The blankets around the figure just tightened as arms must have pulled closer together. “We would just like to say hi, and meet you. Its not everyday that Thomas forms a new aspect. Oh, um, I’m Morality by the way, and there’s Creativity,”

“Greetings.”

“and Logic,”

“Salutations.”

“When ever you are ready, your door will always open for you, can’t wait to meet you.” They turned at Morality’s prompting, filing out as quietly as they went in. Before Morality closed the door, he noticed a wall plugin, right beside it, a foot or so off the floor. He called up a nightlight and plugged it in. The amber glow warming the dark room hopefully guiding the new aspect out. If it was important enough for it to take a form, no matter how ominous it seemed, Thomas needed it . They all needed him.

~*~

 

Those few minuets were probably the most panic inducing moments he had ever already had in what he knew was his short time existing.

_Others_. Fingers, laughs and whispers. But they already seemed different. A good different, not the pointing and mocking and judging. They were all the same, yet distinguishable, parts of a whole. Of more already, and he already had an inkling. A word said, a name uttered. Thomas. Already a core piece of him settled in place. He was _Thomas’ Anxiety_ , and somehow, that made the tightness in his chest loosen and the burning breathing not hurt any more. His tight cocoon became a cover and he pulled down his quilt, feeling ridiculous at how he panicked at the shuffled movements. He knew he was better than that, he knew he could control it, but each time he lost focus it slipped through his fingers and he was left flailing to grasp it back again.

His room was different though, a soft… warmth in a way. Sitting up and turning, he found a nightlight plugged in. Warm amber light pushing back the dark around him and it highlighted the glittery gold of his door handle, beckoning him to explore outside this already all to familiar room. The strip of bright light between the door and floor was the walkway he needed and he found himself there, at the door. Hand trembling inches away from the enticing gold handle. In the back of his head, he was worried, oh so worried that everything would go wrong, scared that he would embarrass himself in front of the familiar others, nervous, what would he say? How would they judge him? But that was at the back of his head, he had control over it, control over Thomas’ anxiety, as he was Anxiety himself. The right amount was always healthy, able to worry, able to protect and act. He kept Thomas safe, with that commitment in hand, he took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.

It was bright outside his room, door swinging open easily. Leaving him squinting till his eyes adjusted to the light. His door clicked shut behind him, the sound loud to his ears and drawing the attention of the three figures in front of him. The scruffy figure halted his movements, three sets of eyes examining the dark plaid hoodie, unkempt hair, and tired eyes.  The sudden quiet of there frozen conversation and the identical stares had him wanting to turn right around and hide forever in his dark comfortable room. That was inevitable as blue shirt, bright eyes and a very happy smile approached at lightning speed and was already dragging the dark clothed figure forward towards the other two and away from the security of his room. Panic rose up the back of his throat like bile, he pushed it back down. This was not bad touch, it was new touch, but not bad. He breathed, keeping away the burning and the turning vice in his chest. So many colours and sounds already, almost overwhelming. He kept breathing, focused on breathing till the cacophony of sound silenced and he opened his eyes not knowing when he closed them to see expectant gazes all the same. Everyone waiting a half step away from him, giving him the space to keep breathing. 

“What?” He huffed out, shoulders hunching more into his bunnyhug under the weight of all the stares. He could shoulder this, he knew worse was to come.

“We asked who you were.” The one in white and red satin sash asked with a charming smile.

“I- I’m Anxiety.” He almost stumbled over his words. Nervousness bubbling up all over again. But the familiar others didn’t seem to mind, smiles that he could never replicate erupting on there faces and suddenly being held on two sides by white and blue. A hug, it was a hug he knew somehow like how he knew white was Creativity and blue was Morality, leaving black and blue tie to be Logic, who was awkwardly pulled into this hug. Sure, he was given names, but he didn’t see who was who, it wasn’t needed, because these Others were familiar to him. It was all so new, and the anxiety with new and unknown tried to rise up with vengeance. He stopped it. It was not needed now, this was good things, and they should happen.


	2. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morality observes, and Anxiety panics for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I fixed some spelling mistakes on ch. 1. 
> 
> This chapter has the panic attack, but I never personally experienced a full panic attack, but I have been very anxious about going into a social situation that I cried from it, and I understand that everyone has different reactions and experiences in panic attacks, so I am drawing from my experiences, if you don't like to read that stuff, you can skip it, its in the third section and for about two paragraphs. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy reading!

 

Looking back in hindsight Morality thought, he knew since he saw the forming frame of the night dark door that it would be Anxiety. Thomas’ worries were becoming a very large part of his life, more so than he could keep track of and control, and that control he had over them had slowly been loosening in him. Thomas never lost that control of his anxiety and worries, gosh forbid that ever happening, but put that control into a form in which he could actively work best with for him; in an aspect that lived up to its meaning with words and deeds, an aspect he could manifest and speak directly with to work out problems and worries. Which was much better than having to wade through all the emotions in him to try and find the problem, he can call Anxiety directly.

Morality did not mind only having the positive emotions now, he was still Dad though, with one more kid to look after now than before. He glanced over to his right seeing the other three engrossed in the Disney movie of the night. Anxiety was smooshed between Princey and Logic, his quilt a cape around him to protect him after being forced to sit down and watch when they learned that he didn’t know Disney. At first Anxiety really didn’t want to, happy to read the book he found. He tried to decline and worm his way out of the situation when the two plopped themselves beside him, trapping him in his spot, being stuck between strong will and undeniable logic. The youngest one didn’t have a chance to get a word in edge wise and by the time they quieted down the opening scene was rolling through the storybook telling on the screen and all became absorbed in the classic tale. Anxiety liked Disney to, but just in a different way than all of them.

He glanced around the common area they were in, noticing little details that developed as slowly as the new door did. It was how the sofa they now sat on fit four instead of the three before. How there was another chair at the kitchen table and more stray pillows and blankets draping across another comfortable single sofa chair with a small side table and lamp beside it. The TV stand had another shelf on it along with the book case. He didn’t know if the aspects noticed it yet or not, or even cared, space was needed for the somber aspect and it was created. He expected soon enough that books, movies, shows, games and hobbies would be soon appearing on the shelves and for the chair to be worn in by someone who liked a little comfortable corner to just be in. Glancing back to the three, Anxiety looked to be as comfortable and relaxed as he could be wrapped up in his midnight quilt staring at the flickering screen. He smiled and turned his own attention back to the fairy tale.

~*~

 

The first time Anxiety was summoned, it seemed like a small disaster.

They all innately knew what they were, and what to do, but thinking you know verses actually doing it, differed greatly.

Thomas had a lot of projects piling up suddenly and had a lot of scheduling around those ideas. They could feel the stress and nervousness roll off Anxiety and coat everything with a fine layer of tacky anxiousness that couldn’t always be washed away. It was new. Anxiety was new and all four of them of them were learning the new aspects influence and capabilities. They were watching him pace in front of his chair, muttering out ideas and situations for tomorrow. Logic was trying to but in here and there to diffuse the circular thoughts and shed light into ideas to no avail, each point getting passed over for another situation that might not really happen. The muttering stopped for a second, long enough for Anxiety to look confused before they all felt the tug as if they were all woven together before one particular thread was chosen to be pulled from the fabric, the next step had him sinking down.

Panic flooded Thomas’ mindscape, but the source was outside feeling now. They had a collective realization of Oh No.

~*~

 

He was pacing, back and fourth, thoughts and ideas bubbled up easily when he was moving it seemed. Thomas had so much so suddenly and he was panicking a little in trying to figure out how to get everything done and take care of him without the manifestor getting burnt out. Project deadlines were looming on the horizon and he knew that there was not enough time, even with maximizing the scheduled time would not be good, it would just wear out Thomas and he would not have any fun in doing said projects and that was not what he wanted for him. But he kept breathing and kept thinking. There was a tug at his side, wanting to pull him somewhere, he tried to brush it off, pausing when it gave a more incessant tug, he couldn’t say no to it. He was being yanked the next step he took and it seemed like he was falling though the floor. He was on a stairwell now, in a completely different place.

This was not supposed to happen yet, he hadn’t yet thought upon this situation, he wasn’t ready yet. What dose he say, what dose he do? Panic rose swiftly and the vice tightened in his chest and burning breathing came back to quickly. No, he could do better than this, control it, but it kept slipping out of his fingers. Movement in front of him had him looking.

“Morality, what is going-” The voice stopped suddenly, sound caught when they looked at each other, surprised at each other’ appearances. He could hear echoes of the others in the voice, or was the others voices a reflection of this one, he didn’t know. He was looking at Thomas, whole, core, center, and Thomas was looking at him, aspect, reflection, part. He tried to shrink down into his bunnyhug, but he was numb, limbs unresponsive and breathing totally cut off, a clamp closed around his throat, stopping even speech. This definitely was not how he wanted it to go. The other three popped up around him and Thomas, the sound breaking the silence like ice and one of them was right beside him. Low words trickling through the high-pitched ringing in his ears. The other two were with Thomas, speaking to him also. He was panicking, Thomas was Panicking. He didn’t want that for Thomas, he was supposed to keep the panic away from his manifestor. He tried to breath.

When Thomas managed a gasp of fresh air, it was like the clamp around his throat was cut off and he gasped for the much needed air also. There deep breathing slowly synchronized and the ringing faded away to hear Logic smoothly guide them though a breathing technique, breath in, hold, three, four, slowly out, once again now, breath… He could see Thomas visibly start to relax, and the control he had was once again grasped safe in his hands away from anything else. They were on the ground, all of them sitting on the carpet, he didn’t know when they got there, but it was better than standing right now, yet he didn’t want this right now, he wanted to go back. When he tried, he was held back, a small tugging at his side that didn’t let him go any farther than he already was, anchoring him to the ground, no, tethering him to the manifestor. He looked to the source, Thomas, looking at him. Not judging not pointing, just looking. Creativity was at Thomas side, still holding that breathing pattern Logic had set out. He realized that Morality was doing the same for him also, keeping him from hyperventilating or not breathing at all. Thomas smiled when their eyes met once again, and the vice in his chest loosened.

Things were going to be okay.

“Hello,” Thomas started with a small laugh and the smile grew bigger. “I take that that was not how you wanted to be introduced. I think I know who you are, but I want you to tell me yourself.” Thomas relaxed, and he found himself able to speak, or was he able to speak because he was relaxing into this situation letting Thomas speak up first? He didn’t know, and he really didn’t care to know himself yet.

“I’m Anxiety.” He replied, trying to hold his dignity together through his wavering speech.

“I thought so, you are still very new, aren’t you?” He nodded at that. “I can let you go back if you want to, and we can talk another day. I thought I was calling up Morality to see why I was so anxious this past week, but I need to talk to you about that now.  Are you okay to stay and talk, or do you need to go back now for a later day?”

He was given a question, an opinion in what he wanted to do. Stay and speak with Thomas about what was worrying them, or go and hide under his bed's quilt till the next time he was needed. The second option sounded so tempting, but he knew that putting it off would just increase his anxiety for next time. He was already out here, they were all out, and he was a manifestors aspect. He was Thomas’ Anxiety, and Thomas wanted to figure out why he was anxious, that was his job. He took another deep breath, counting the breathing pattern himself, and nodded. “I’ll stay, we do need to talk, and better now than later.”

Thomas smiled, and they talked. All five of them really, they all stayed seated on the living room floor, carpet good enough for all of them. Thought, ideas and situations all came up, trying to plan for tomorrow and next week, Thomas and Anxiety voicing concerns and worries to be laid to rest for now by Logic, Creativity, and Morality way into the evening and then night, till they were all to tired to go to bed, the stare case looking more like a mountain every passing minuet.

Thomas stumbled onto the sofa instead, and like a magnet drew each of the aspects with him. They settled down around each other, and he was anxious only a little bit. Creativity would slay the creeping monster, Logic could think themselves out of any situation, and Morality would all ways see the positive part of the adventure, no, he didn’t need to worry right now. He could, and would worry tomorrow, but right now was for sleep. Warmed by the ones around him and the blanket that settled overtop, they all fell into a peaceful slumber.

~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> Any comments, questions and random thoughts are welcomed, I don't bite, and I would love to hear what you have to say.


	3. Sustenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food is weird... sorta. And tea is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really drink tea, so if anything is glaringly wrong with how I describe the flavours, let me know. I just think that tea is a good option for our beloved mess of worries. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

 

It was a week in when Anxiety noticed that Morality was spending time in what was called the kitchen this particular day, more time than before that he knew of. Hearing the clanking and scraping of pots and pans and the cutting and splashing of knives and water in the sink was a great distraction from reading the book he discovered lying around. He tried the block out the noises but the variety of sounds couldn’t be predicted and it was starting to get annoying. Yet he was also very curious as to what required the making of all the sounds. Book marking his page he made his silent way to the doorway of the kitchen. Watching how Morality looked off a page from a propped-up book and started to cut up vegetables. He rinsed them in the sink before dumping them in a boiling pot of water.

This was all very new to him.

Beside the pot of boiling vegetables was a tall pot with pasta slowly sinking into the burbling water as it heated and softened. His attention was drawn to the frying pan next to it as Morality picked up a spoon and stirred sizzling ground beef, watching as the raw meat cooked to a nice brown tone. Steam rising and being wafted away by the range hood. The one cooking turned around to got something and was startled by the shadowed figure lurking in the doorway.

“Oh Anxiety, I didn’t see you there. Do you want to come help and get the pasta sauce ready?” He was smiling a big smile, beckoning him further inside the kitchen. He couldn’t resist, curiosity getting the better of his nervousness. Morality easily directed him to his first ever task. “Okay, the recipe says for the sauce to finely dice four tomato’s, half an onion, two carrots, peppers, and a stalk of celery. We also need garlic, various spices and a small can of tomato paste.” He was placed at a plastic board with the various vegetables ready to be chopped by the paring knife to the side. Bowls appeared by the work of Morality’s hand. He picked up the green stalk of celery and just started cutting the stalk into thin sticks lengthwise before chopping it into small chunks. Putting the small pieces into a bowl to make room he grabbed the next vegetable. He half watched Morality pull out bottles of spices from an overhead cupboard that were supposedly needed and measured out the different amounts into the meat and a separate bowl to the side.

It was a small spectacle to watch. He just finished the carrots and started on the tomatoes when the Dad swiped away the filled dishes of green, orange and red, tossing the food into a fresh sizzling hot pan. The popping of water on oil filling up the kitchen with sound beside the burble of boiling water and the whirl of the range hood.

“What’s this all for?” He asked looking at how the tomatoes squished out juice as he sliced them, little round yellow seeds sticking and scattering across the plastic cutting board. Morality looked up from stirring the long soft pasta in the pot.

“What is this for? To eat, we all get hungry, but not so much that we make a full meal every night. Tonight, I am hungry, and I assume that Logic and Princey are also, and I think you are also, you just do not know it yet. You haven’t really eaten anything yet, have you?” Morality asked as he swept the cut tomatoes away and into the pan of sauce.

He shook his head no, the kitchen didn’t seem to hold anything remarkable in it when he went exploring late a night earlier when everyone was asleep, but now… it was fascinating. In a scary way, in which how he knew how much you could accidentally get hurt in the kitchen. By the burning flames on the stove, hot boiling water, hot pan, hot oil, sharp knives, like the one he was using right now quite well, despite this being the first time he ever actually used a knife.  It was also fascinating in how he could smell the cooking food, the warmth of the spiced meat and the yumminess of the frying vegetables in the sauce Morality was dumping the can of tomato paste in and sprinkling the measured bowl of various spices in also. The way he checked how cooked the vegetables were by stabbing them with a fork, the scrape of the spoon tossing around the ground beef. The Dad figure turned down the burners, hard sounds of cooking softening with it. He turned to the cupboard next to him.

“Would you grab the cutlery from the drawer please, we need to set places for four tonight.” Morality asked as he brought down plates and cups. Despite never opening any drawers of cupboards in the kitchen, he walked to the drawer one in from the end of the counter and pulled it open to discover the plastic tray with the needed cutlery and grabbed four sets and followed Morality to the table, placing the forks and knives beside the set plates. Morality danced around him, going back to the stove, and checked the food before pulling out hot pot mats from a different drawer and putting them on the table. Morality checked everything once again before turning off the burners.

“Suppers ready.” He yelled and carried the pasta pot to the table after draining the water from it. Princey bounded in quite quickly after the call, exclaiming how good everything smelled and pulled a jug of milk and powdered cheese stuff from the fridge as he passed by to the table. Logic appeared a moment after, took a glance at the table, then to the stove and went to bring over the pan of ground beef receving an even larger smile from Morality who was draining the vegetables.

It was suddenly just to crowded. The flurry of movements and the excited talk of Princey and Morality added just too much sound and he felt stuck in the corner he was in with no where to go because there was to many people, and there are hot pots of metal moving around, breakable glasses full of milk on the table and the knives used to cut stuff with weren’t put away to be cleaned later, and, and, and… and it was quieter, the range hood was turned off. Princey was not talking loud and was sitting at the table with Logic and Morality set down the spoon for the meat onto the table with a soft clunk of the plastic on wood.

“Hey, Anxiety, are you okay?” The Dad figure asked as he shifted his stance more toward him. The calling of his designation drew his attention away from his panicking state. Looking toward the three at the table, the three others looking at him, waiting, and looking. No, not bad, they looked… concerned? Maybe?

He was asked a question, was he okay? Somewhat, kind of, good enough for now at least. He drew a deep breath, finally tasting the delicious pasta and sauce and the meat from the steam wafting lazily up from the hot pots. He was suddenly hungry and his mouth watered a little, it was such a strange sensation to feel.

“Y-yah.” He answered with the best voice he could manage.

“Well, come on then, sit down. Everyone’s hungry.” He ventured forward onto the last open seat at the table and sat, watching as everyone served themselves a helping of the meal on the table. Anxiety kind of felt lost, not quite sure what to do in this situation. Princey went for the beef first, and poured sauce on top before getting the pasta ladle from Logic, who put down pasta first, took a spoon full of vegies from the pot and then got the sauce and meat. Morality noticed though, and he swiped his plate. “Here kiddo, ill get you some.” He was given a spoon of vegies to the side of the meat and pasta with the sauce poured overtop. It was returned to him now a plate of steaming yummy smelling food.

He watched for a moment after Morality filled his plate as everyone picked up their cutlery and started eating. Mimicking them he twirled his fork around in the pasta gathering sauce around it and scooped a chunk of the beef with it. He was surprised by the bite he took. The food was hot on his tongue, the sauce spicy, the beef flavourful and the pasta chewy. It was so good, but it was just to hot, and he dropped his fork with a clatter to grasp his glass of cold milk which washed away the burning temperature. His reaction garnered a giggle from the Creative aspect, a well-placed glare made him quiet. Logic gave a glance his way but resumed eating with no comment, Morality was watching though.

“So, is it good Anxiety?” He asked, curiosity colouring his words.

He just nodded as he had just taken another bite, this time the vegetables after being blowed upon to cool off a small bit. They were still hot, but manageable, and the crunch was nice and they let off their own clean flavors. Dad smiled the largest smile yet and started speaking upon how he had helped with the meal, and conversation carried on. The meal surprisingly pleasant he thought, as he didn’t have a reference as to what was supposed to happen here, and the abating of his hunger also a new experience. It was good, and he hid a small smile behind hid forkful of pasta as Princey began to tell a story of how he defeated a dragon witch.

~*~

 

Food was still a little bit of a confusing thing. He didn’t really have an appetite sometimes, but when food was placed in front of him, he ate with no problem. Morality mentioned something about finding a rhythm, and that Princey and Logic were the same way to when they first emerged also. They to found the idea of food strange till they became accustomed to it.

He learned early that the easy ‘breakfast’ foods like toast and cereal were great and simple. Coffee was tart, strong, bitter, and a punch to get going in the mornings where he couldn’t get the energy himself. Lunch was floaty, never really knowing what to eat along with him not really feeling the need paired with way to may options just left him looking at the cupboards. The easiest thing was to just find something small and simple like an apple or something if he was feeling hungry at all.

Supper was also strange, because they didn’t need to make a full meal each day since they didn’t need that amount of energy from Thomas everyday. But everyone usually ate something near the end of the day anyways. It was just… confusing. He hadn’t yet felt the need anymore than before and Morality was sometimes giving him the side eye glance, trying to be discreet but failing in checking up on him and his eating habits. There was one thing that changed that though, and he learned what wanting to eat something was; tea. It technically was a drink but it was a discovery he was glad to have made.

He was once again pinned in place between Princey and Logic for the mandatory Disney movie night. Before the movie started Morality came walking in with a tray of cups, mugs really, of hot steaming coloured liquids. A mix of delectable aromas filled the air and by the reactions from Logic and Princey, it was good. Prince grabbed a Cinderella mug filled with a creamy light brown mix, with marshmallows floating in it and a froth of cream dolloped on top. Logic grabbed the ‘#1 Teacher’ mug filled with a warm golden tone and Morality picked one up with puppies printed on it also filled with creamy brown liquid, but not topped with anything extra. There were at least five other mugs on the tray with other hot liquids and he was at a loss.

“Aren’t ya gonna grab a mug Anxiety?” Morality asked from his end of the couch. He just gave a shrug in reply, pulling his quilt around him tighter. He just… didn’t know. The Cinderella mug was thrusted in front of his face, liquid almost sloshing over the rim.

“Here, try mine, its called hot chocolate.” Princey stated. “I assure you that it is very good.”

“Of course it is, It’s fit for a royal.” Morality smiled at the good-natured groans he received.

He carefully grasped the warm ceramic, the heat transfer tingling his fingers. He took a small sip knowing it to be hot. The hot chocolate was very warm and very sweet, and very creamy for sure. The froth got caught on his upper lip and a he licked it away, leaving a sticky residue. It was too heavy though, good yes, and it seemed to warm him up from the inside, but it left a cloying sweet heavy on his tongue and it wasn’t quite right, good, but not for now. He passed back the mug with a shrug, frown pulling at his features.

“You, don’t like it?” Prince announced in disbelief, and his confident look fell a little. “It is only the best hot chocolate in the entire kingdom, perfect temperature, perfect number of marshmallows and perfect amount of wiping cream, and you don’t like it?” He sounded upset, looking to Anxiety who was shrinking down as he pulled his midnight quilt tighter around himself.

“No, no… its fine, just, not right. Way to sweet.” Anxiety replied somberly, sound muffled by his quilt, ducking away from Prince’s loud words.

Logic hummed beside him looking at the tray, breaking the tension in the air, his thinking face on. He picked up a clear glass mug containing an orangish looking clear liquid. It was handed to him, and it was warm in his hand. The drink smelled warm and sweet, but not overly so like the hot chocolate. It also smelled mellow and calm. He took a sip. It was light and very delicious, full of flavour that was mellow and didn’t leave a tacky taste behind. Light and fruity, with a bit of spice. This was very good. Morality giggled from his seat. “I guess you like this one?” He stated. The blanketed boy nodded yes, taking another sip of the warm liquid, relishing how it warmed up his hands and cheeks.

“What’s it called?” He asked quietly between sips.

“The flavour you have right now is an orange pekoe, it’s a tea, and there are many other flavours also. There is green tea and earl gray also on the tray.” Logic supplied the answer pointing to the mugs.

He eyed the mugs that held a green tea and a light brown tea, he shrugged, this on was good enough for now. The movie played, and mugs were left empty on side tables half way through. He found himself staring into the empty glass wondering where the yummy tea went to, and he looked at the other mugs of tea. Probably getting cold, sitting, and not being drank, it would be such a waste of Morality’s work, and tea. He carefully stretched, putting the empty mug on the coffee table with a ‘tunk’ and leaned and grasped the mug with a dark plaid print in blue, gray and pink. It was the one called earl gray, he thinks. He sipped it, luke-warm, but still nice. This one too was light, but not as fruity, earthier, still mellow and a different spicy taste to it. Soon enough that mug was also empty and he knew there were two songs left in the movie and credits the rest sang to. So he exchanged for the last cup, it was cold, yes, but it didn’t deter from the light taste it also had, slightly sweet, maybe drizzled with honey? He didn’t know, it was all really good though.

Flavoured water, easy, yummy warm or cold, and something he was looking forward to having again. He set the empty mug down and relaxed back into the cushions and pulled his quilt tight around him again, the villain was being vanquished and Princey bounced the whole couch in his cheering, arms shooting up in the air in excitement. He hid a smirk behind his quilt as he pulled it up again, watching how the royal was captivated by the movie on the screen, dispite having watched it enough to recite the lines in time with the film. He was quite glad when the credits started to roll. It was a good plot yes, but there was just a lot of singing. There were also points he could ask Princey about tomorrow, if he remembered them and the fanciful aspect was quiet enough to listen to him for more than a minuet. Logic stood up and stretched, gathering stray mugs back onto the tray. He had a small look of befuddlement on his face as he counted the mugs, there were two mugs of hot chocolate left, but all the tea was gone. The teacher glanced his way.

“Anxiety, did you drink all that tea?” Was said just loud enough for him to hear over Princiey’s singing of the credit music.

“Uh, yah, what about it?”

“Nothing, it is nice to know you like tea as much as I do. One piece of advice I can give to you is to not over consume it all at once. Despite how nice it is to indulge in, it is still water.” Logic left on that, helping Morality take the tray to the kitchen. He didn’t understand his advice till much later, or he could say much earlier in the morning the next day.

The smell of something buttery and the sound of something sizzling on the skillet lured him out of his room the next morning way to early for his liking. His bunny hug a couple of sizes to large and the hood shielding him from the bright morning light. He was just, really tired. He didn’t care that he was falling asleep at the table. He would have called last night a good night of sleep, it was easy to fall into the drifty in between and the tea kept a calm warm through him, but it was also the tea that woke him up at least three times to go to the washroom. He was never going to drink that much tea ever again, especially before bed. His drifting thoughts was startled out of by the clinking of a mug right in front of him. He cracked an eye open enough to spot the mug with a graphic of a cat saying, ‘good meow-ing’ on it. He was not ready for puns, but he grasped the handle and sipped the golden liquid. Sweet, tart, spicy, almost making his lips pucker at the taste. It was a tea. A very good wake up tea. He looked to Logic who had his own cup of golden wake-up. 

“Morning Lemon,” He said, knowing what Anxiety was going to ask. “It is a very good tea to wake up to after a restless night.” He didn’t even have the energy to glower, but he did have enough to take another sip and move himself off the table for Morality to put down the plate of pancakes and bowl of cut fruits. After everyone was served it was quiet except for the slicing of fluffy breakfast food and the drizzle of syrup. Anxiety found his mug already half gone, and just, really liking tea. It was better than hot chocolate, that’s for sure.

~*~

 

 


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has the first bad nightmare in a long time, and Morality explains things, kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhg, I feel like Princey was fighting me more than he was with Anxiety.   
> Anyways, this is a sadish chapter, so a notice for verbal fighting and reactions to having a nightmare that include panic.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

He woke up with a gasp. A cold sweat trailing down his back and trembling in his sheets. He-he, no, something was wrong. He was scared, why was he scared? Something happened, is happening, out of his control, he couldn’t remember. It was to dark. He stumbled out of bed, almost tripping over his tangled sheets, his amber nightlight barely keeping away the soupy blackness trying to drown him.

Thomas, something was wrong with Thomas, something out of his control was scaring him, he couldn’t let that be. He door was swung open just enough before he was already falling, no, sinking into the real world. He appeared by his bed, his manifestor looking distressed in his own sleep, limbs tangled in his sheets.

“Thomas.” He whispered urgently, hoping a gentle wake could help fend off the scare. He crouched down by the bed and gently shook his hosts shoulder. “Thomas, wake up.” He insisted a little louder. “Wake up!” He hissed. Shaking his shoulder more. All his host did was whimper and the frown lines grew more drastic.

Thomas didn’t wake, this was not good. He was feeling the panic starting to set onto him also, he was losing his hold, a loop back and forth. He needed someone else here to wake Thomas, who was in charge of dreams? He knees weakened, and his breath was becoming short. It started to burn. He wished the others were here, they would be able to wake Thomas. He grasped feebly at the strings threaded through him. Maybe the others will notice Thomas’ panic. Maybe they’ll sink in themselves and wake him. Maybe they’ll fix everything he does wrong.  It was getting worse. He managed to take hold of one of the threads and he yanked enough to hopefully get attention. His legs couldn’t hold him anymore. He slid to the floor, his back in the corner where the nightstand and bed met. There was to much around him. His breath was coming in short gasps, burning every second more. He felt the tug, one of the others sunk in. He didn’t know who, but they were here, it was going to get better somehow.

“What is going on?!” The rich vibrato asked indignantly. Prince. He couldn’t answer. “Logic! Morality!” It was to loud, and tears were welling up in his eyes making everything blurry. He was panicking. He was scared.

Someone touched his shoulder, blue, trying to get his attention. They grasped his hands away from his head that were covering his ears and scratching at his hair. There thumbs rubbing the palms of his hands a soothing rhythm, his panic being tempered. He managed a gasp of air. Thomas woke up. He drew in more breath, the ringing in his ears faded away.

“An-Anxiety, good job, keep breathing with me. In, hold, three, four, out, good, common kiddo, keep breathing with me.” Morality, Morality was the one who was tempering Anxiety. The burning breathing faded. Tears trailing down his cheeks were wiped away with the same gentle thumb that had been rubbing at his palms. He blinked, clearing his vision. His breathing was still exaggerated, but he could hear and see. See Morality’s worried gaze and the soft light of the lamp on the nightstand illuminating the bedroom, the alarm clock reading 1:54 in the morn, and an equally distresses looking Thomas who had Logic and Princey by his side, each with a hand on one of his shoulders reassuring him. They were softly talking him out of his nightmare panic also. It became quiet for a moment, letting Anxiety and Thomas regulate there breathing and calm down enough to think clearly about what has happened.

“Common Anxiety, can you get up onto the bed? Here, I’ll help you up.” Morality asked, helping him when he couldn’t get up by himself. The bed was soft and the sheets became more tangled as they shuffled around to make room.

“What happened?” Prince asked as soon as everyone was settled, pointing his gaze at Anxiety. He shrunk back into his bunny hug, looking at the sheets. He tried to speak, but his voice was stuck in his throat.

“I-I think it was a nightmare,” Thomas spoke up, his voice wavering. “I don’t really remember much, but I was on stage, practicing or performing or something, and everything was going wrong. My lines were gone, my costume was too small and it didn’t fit and I was getting larger, the set was falling because I broke it… and… people were yelling…” He trailed off, trying to grasp the ends of a dream that wouldn’t stay.

“I know that, it was my dream making that became corrupted. It became a nightmare. I’m asking Anxiety how he pulled me out of dream mode and messed up my work.” Prince’s gaze hardened a little, the rest looked to him in various levels of confusion. His voice decided to work.

“I, I don’t, I didn’t mean to. I woke up and I was scared, Thomas was scared. He needed to be woken up. I needed to stop the scare and someone else to wake him up. I, I didn’t know who…” He said apprehensively.

“You pulled Prince out of dream mode?” Morality asked, incredulity colouring his tone.

“I, I guess I did? I don’t know, I just needed someone else and he’s the one who came.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to pull an aspect out of a mode?” Morality continued to ask.

“No…?” The morose aspect trailed off, confused at the question.

“I think you do. You always undermine my ideas and inspirations with all your..., I don’t even know the word right now. Your negativeness, or something. You pulled me out, taint it with your undesirable thoughts and ruined a perfectly good dream. I was rehearsing when things started to go kablooie. I work hard on those you know.” The vibrato grew a hard edge to it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean…” He tried to apologise, faltering in finding the correct words, the correct feeling.

“Sorry does not cut it. I can’t stand what you do! You always make Thomas panic at the smallest things. Can’t you not worry about something for once in your short existence! Things were better without you.” Prince’s tone grew cold, anger clear on his face.

“No.” Anxiety butted back provoked to the fanciful side with a heated sneer. “No, I can’t. Its not like I can stop worrying about anything at all. Its what I am, what I do, I worry. I am Anxiety. I think of all the thing that could go wrong. I get scared and I panic. Its what I do. I didn’t mean to make Thomas panic, I woke up scared because he was scared first, I didn’t know what was going on, or why he was scared in the first place. I just tried to keep it away from him after that. I tried to stop the scare, which was his dream. I couldn’t-”

“Well you didn’t do a very good job then,” Prince interrupted. “Because look at where we are now. Up in the middle of the night loosing beauty sleep, with a perfectly good dream ruined, and it is all your fault.” He sniped back vehemently.

“No, you don’t understand-” Anxiety tried, voice becoming brittle.

“No, I understand. Just leave Thomas’ dreams to me like everyone else does. I can’t stand you sometimes. Go worry in a corner about what ever it is you do. I have a dream to salvage.” Prince said finally and sank out back into the mindscape. Leaving behind a speechless manifestor and his three other sides.

Anxiety furiously tried to hide the tears behind an impassive mask, but they welled up anyways and threatened to spill down his cheeks any second. He scrubbed them away with his sleeve before they could fall.

“Anxiety…” Thomas said quietly, and he thinks he hears pity in his manifestors voice as he trails off.

“No, Prince is right, I need to go.” He replied dejectedly, voice flat. He to sunk down.

Morality and Logic shared a look before nodding in silent agreement. Logic also sunk down. Thomas looked to his eldest aspect.

“Logic is going to talk to Prince and see if he can help him think this through. I’m going to see if I can help Anxiety. Try to get some sleep, I know things feel like a mess, but it will get better. Goodnight kiddo.” Morality hugged Thomas and helped fix the tangled sheets, tucking in the tired manifestor before sinking down himself.

He laid there alone, thoughts and feelings in a turmoil, left with the tail end of a nightmare he couldn’t recall keeping him from peaceful sleep.

~*~

 

“Do you think he know his name yet?” Was quietly asked beside him. He looked up from the newspaper word scrabble to see Logic looking over his notebook to Anxiety who had fallen asleep in his chair. His paperback book almost falling out of his lax hand, yet his face showed tense lines of a not happy dream. The youngest trait always seemed to be sleeping, but never had enough of it anyways.

“I don’t know, do you know when you knew your name?” He replied, asking his own question for the logical side to ponder.

“I don’t actually know when I knew my name, I just, had it, one day and that was it.” He pondered, trying to think back to when there was a difference in what he was called, finding no distinct line of designation to actual name.

“Anxiety has only been here for about a month or so now, I think he would tell us somehow, when he knows.” He spoke just as quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping.

“I guess so, Morality…” Logic hesitated, “Will he get better?”

“Better how?”

“I mean, all he does right now is make Thomas panic when he shouldn’t, will he ever, not do that?”

“That is a difficult thing to judge, and maybe difficult for you to understand. Anxiety was made so Thomas can manage his anxiety better, they are still both young and still both learning to work together. I feel that overtime, as they learn, it will get better. It takes time, like how you had to talk with Thomas a lot before you both figured out each others needs. Also, Anxiety is not just irrational panic, he is the anxiousness before the big drop on a rollercoaster or the drive to perform well on stage with butterflies in your stomach. I used to have parts of anxiety before Anxiety was here. He is very much needed. But he is still young and learning. Did that make sense?” He inquired, looking to Logic who was scribbling away at his notebook. He shook his head as he crossed t’s and dotted I’s on his page.

“I… don’t know actually. How could you have parts of anxiety, you’re his heart.”

“Yes, I am his heart, but I also am the first one to be formed, I had parts of all three of you before Thomas made you guys.”

“How could you have parts of me? We are the most opposite to each other possible.” Logic asked confused.

“Opposite dose not mean that we can’t work together, in fact, it lets us work better. Even though I am an emotion driven aspect, like Anxiety, I need to think upon and figure out what Thomas needs in his daily life to keep heathy and happy. His moral compass takes up a lot of thought, trying to judge and assess what would be the best course of action emotionally for all involved. We are all weaved together to form Thomas even though it seems like we can’t work together, when properly balanced, Thomas is at the best he can be.”

“I don’t understand your metaphor, how are we ‘weaved together’ as you say?” Logic was looking more confused the more the tried to interpret Morality’s words.

“Let me give you some examples, I’ll rephrase how the both of us mesh, you are his mind, in simple terms, and I his heart, and at first glance, we are opposite, and we do bicker a lot about many things, but we balance each other when we work together, a proper mix of thinking and feeling always gives the best outcomes. What connects you and Prince is that you are both mindsets for Thomas, either the very logical and planned deliberation of scholarly thinking, or the creative and wandering imagination of a young one, you both think, just in different ways. I and Princey are both positive influences, we like to think in the best lights and see the good outcomes.  For you and Anxiety, you are both much more grounded in reality than I or Princey can be. Both of you think and figure out the negative parts along with the implications that actions take to balance out our positive that we just don’t think about. For Anxiety and Creativity, they both can think up very creative situations, its just that its split so that Princey has more positive ones and Anxiety worries about the negative ones. For I and Anxiety, we are the emotion driven aspects, the ones that works with the good and the bad, and when we balance, Thomas can feel the whole spectrum of emotions and not be overwhelmed and manage his feelings along side his thinking. Its complicated, but I have had the time to think and the benefit of seeing how each of us affect the other. Does this make any sense to you?”

“It will take some thought, but yes, I think it does.” Logic replied, still jotting down his words quickly before they are gone.

Morality smiled. He stood and walked quietly to the chair, tugged off the soft crocheted sparkly black-gray-white blanket that was still hanging on the arm and skilfully draped it over the boy, and carefully moved the book to a position it would not fall from, bookmark safe in place. The tense lines marring the youngest sides face eased a little bit as he swiped his bangs back a small bit, tucking the hair behind his ear. He hoped that he held off a bad dream for just a little bit more.

~*~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Also, I feel like Morality isn't as peppy as he is portrayed in the videos, he's much more serious parent than anything else. Any opinions on characterization/ tips to include a more jovial feeling? I just don't know how to balance his character better. Thanks!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed


	5. Palliate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety finally feels like he is getting the hang of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to really warn about here I think, if there is let me know.  
> This is barely proofread, if there is anything glaringly obvious that it needs spelling/ grammar fixing, also let me know.

  


Anxiety loved his sweater. He really did, it was very soft and fluffy, and oversized also. Which was always a bonus because he could huddle and curl right up into the soft blackness it provided to ignore the world. That and it was also the best impromptu blanket he always had with him. But like anything that was constructed from his hosts mindscape, had a somehow unknow will of its own. Things were always changing, shifting, one day a space would be empty, the next, a little reading nook or a writing desk would appear. There were always new hallways popping up also.

 Some days, when he was feeling better and everything was not as dreary, his sweater would have a zipper down the middle, usually unzipped, and the windowpane check pattern of gray broke up the black expanse for him. Other days… when it felt best to stay in bed and sleep life away but you must move and get up, it was a bunnyhug. Hood up, extra fluffy, extra large, no zipper allowing the pocket in the front to be large enough to hide both forearms in. It let him slink to his chair and be a shadow in the corner of everyone’s eyes since the cloth was an undisturbed black of nothingness. It was like the clothing was trying to apologise to him for having to get up in the first place. Like today, and it was doing its best to apologise. It was the bunnyhug days he liked and dreaded the most. It was even more comfortable as a wearable blanket with no interruptions of zippers of hard plastic and cold metal, but he was always feeling the worst when he woke up with it on.

He flopped in his chair after swiping a banana from the fruit bowl, his hood almost reaching past his eyes. It was the easiest thing right now since he was hungry and he / _really_ / wanted to go back to sleep because he knew he didn’t get enough last night, but Thomas needed to book some appointments and it would be a worse mess without him here to keep everything in check. He was learning, getting better too. He knew this was a low-key situation that was not difficult at all. Yet sometimes Thomas' anxiety reared its ugly head and he needed to focus to bring it back under control. Preventative measures were taken, having Anxiety be present let Thomas recognise his anxiousness for the situation and counter accordingly along with the other aspects chiming in their advice, helpful or not.

Logic walked in right on time, pulling out the calendar and drawing up the number ready to dial. He glanced at him, analyzing the situation for a moment, chest puffing up as if he was going to speak, as if wanting to ask him to leave but the logical side kept quiet, face morphing into a small frown before going neutral again. He peeled off the little stringy parts of the banana that stuck on after the peel was removed. He took a bite of the tart sweetness of the almost ripe fruit and sunk deeper into his sofa seat, pulling his blanket over his legs. Thomas took a deep breath and pressed the call button looking over the notepad with his pre-written script on it. Easy to read, easy to speak, easy to do. He could probably just sleep here of all things, it was comfortable, and warm, and Thomas was handling things just fine.

Yes, Thomas will be completely fine.

His hood fell as he shifted, the fabric bunching at an awkward spot at his neck. He found the zipper through folds of fabric and tugged at it with his free hand, fixing the problem as he shifted the sweater around with a little tug to the side. Smiling behind his fruit to not be seen as Thomas penned in the date and time, shook off the jitters and pulled up the next number and script.

~*~

  


When Anxiety opened his door to a very dimly lit hallway, it was an instant nope. His day felt like it went from bad, to worse. He closed the gold hinged door, willing it to open into the commons. He wanted tea, or maybe coffee, depending on how this ended up going. He just wanted something that was warm and caffeinated. The door swung open to the dark hallway again. Nope, it was coffee now, he didn’t have the energy for this. He wanted the commons room, and the last dredges of a sort of good mood evaporated when his door opened a third time to the same dark hallway.

He hated days like this probably more than anything. He was tired, and he just wanted a warm drink. Sometimes though, his door would just not open to the commons no matter how much he willed it to. It opened to dim and dark hallways that held things even he couldn’t imagine from the darkest recesses of his being.

The first time it happened, when dark hallways surrounded him, he was naive, curious, and it was new. He didn’t know. So, he stepped out, and wandered the dim hallways. He had a vague sense of which direction the commons were, but when ever he felt like he was going the right way, the hall would bend in the wrong direction or split off and he had to make a choice in which way to go, which both would not seem to go the right way. It never was that day, at least, as he could remember. It always felt like the commons was right around the corner, like he should know the halls he is walking and where to go. But he didn’t know them. They were to dark to see anything, corners hidden, new halls and bumping into seemingly misplaced furniture. Sounds echo in those halls, morphing, and whispering around till they were seeping out of the faded walls dripping poisonous words and thoughts that had him spiraling to take back the control that had been slipping out if his fingers since he walked out of his room. Shifts of light played across the walls from unknown sources looking like monsters and pointing fingers and stares and whispered words behind his back. 

It was too much to carry, and he couldn’t hold it all back, he didn’t have the control. All the darkness and bleak thoughts and hopeless ideals was to much for him and he had panicked, he did the one thing he was good at.

He didn’t know how Logic found him that day. The analytical trait somehow snapped him out of his spiral of dark thoughts and panic, out of his own little panic mode. The faded walls and dark corners and whispering words and pointing eyes were erased away by him and he found himself with Logic crouching in front of him, a hallway over from the commons. His smooth voice grounding him away from his floaty thoughts and meanderings, rational thoughts mitigating the worst and clear words cutting through the muddled mess around him, mindscape shifting into the familiar shades he knew around them both.

So today, he was prepared, and every time since the first one. He closed his door once more, willing with his might to have it open to the commons. To open to the hustle and bustle of Thomas and his life with four aspects. Morality’s bubbly and energetic love, Princies dramatics and flamboyancy, and Logics cool understanding and thoughtful looks.  It didn’t, it opened to the dark hallway. He wanted to scream, but that would take more energy than he had and all he had wanted was something warm to drink.

He took a deep breath, checking his situation. He was fine, Thomas was fine, he was really good in fact. He almost thinks that half the reason he gets stuck back here was the fact that his manifestor was doing well enough that his anxiousness was pushed to the back of his mind. But then something would happen and Thomas would start panicking and he couldn’t get there in time to keep it in check, and things would have already spiraled out of control. Prince would be mad and his glares would be sharp, Logic would try his best to think the panic out and Morality would do his best to be positive, but nothing ever lasted till he grasped back his control and made head way into Thomas’ panic. That, and his caution would be almost thrown to the wind, caught up in the moment with Morality and Princey. Logic was only good till the action had reasoning, whether it was smart or not. Things would come back to bite them in the butt and he always bit his lip before he could tell them so.

He willed a flashlight, the heavy metal cool in his hand. It was one of the big black work lights that flooded the hall with a dim amber glow when he clicked the button. He stepped out of his room, leaving his door ajar, his nightlight a beacon shining off his gold doorknob. He shone the light left and right, the brightness only going so far before it faded away, being swallowed by the ever darkness of this part of the mindscape. On a whim, he went right, trailing a hand on a wall, feeling the rough texture of peeling paint. He never truly knew where he was going, the scape around him shifting, halls bent, split off, never a door though, that would be to easy, or to scary. He only ever had the inkling of gut instinct in where to go, and that was good enough. He kept walking.

His steps echoed off the carpet, even with him wearing socks the sounds bounced around the halls, the sounds morphing into words, sneers and mocks, whispers that never faded. They didn’t bug him anymore. Princey, the ever-creative side, had come up with a plethora of nicknames that he didn’t appreciate and their scathing banter was getting better each time they verbally jived at each other.  The halls branched off again, and again, sometimes there were bends, sometimes there were three choices. His flashlight flickered here and there, making shadows off the dusty chairs with there matching side table and lamp. He never sat on any of the furniture, or peered into drawers or opened cabinets that he passed by. He didn’t feel like he had the permission to, the furniture wasn’t his, and it felt like if he did anything to them, he’d be disturbing something that went deeper than him.

He continued, focusing on his breathing, keeping it even and kept track of how he felt. The weight was still there on his back, dragging him down, slowing him down, but he persisted, he was stronger. He scoffed at the whispers echoed behind him. At the flickering monsters with teeth and claws creeping behind him. Squaring his set, he kept walking a determined pace, setting out his own path right to the commons. He wanted a dam hot drink today, and so be it he will get it somehow. He learned to be the aggressor, scare the things that scare Thomas. He was Anxiety, he was the fears and worries, not the shadows and whispers that fled after a well-placed sneer and glare. They all melted away, leaving him be, he was the boss, he controlled this. Controlled all the worries, fears, and anxiousness, he will not let the shadows get to his manifestor.

He held back the weight of hopeless ideals and bleak thoughts. It never became easier, but he became stronger. He looked to the wall, hand still trailing along. The rough texture of peeling paint shifted to a smoother newer paint. The darkness lifting slowly every step he took forward showing the true colours of the lively house he lived in. He could smell cookies baking in the oven, and immediately thought of Morality dancing around the kitchen as he mixed the batter, Logic would probably be writing in that notebook of his, and Prince, he’d probably be singing something. He flicked the flashlight off and willed it away.

 He could see down the hall now, the bright ambient light of the commons lighting his path. The sofa was occupied by Creativity who was doodling in a sketch book. Which he had to pass by to get to the kitchen, which did have Dad in it, who was bouncing around the counter as he put away baking dishes that Logic was washing at the sink. The analytical trait looked amused by the excited babbling he couldn’t quite make out yet.

“Nice to see you finally emerge Hot Topic, did you put on your makeup in the dark? You look like a ghoul.” Princey said scathingly as he walked by, words barely scratching the darker trait.

“No, I didn’t have a mirror close by so I just looked at a picture of you.” He replied, keeping his voice flat, and face apathetic. He kept down the smile twitching at his lips when the fanciful side squawked in offense, sounding flabbergasted and appalled at the insult he received. He was past him and in the kitchen before the royal could banter back.

Pots clunked in soapy water as Logic swiped the dish cloth over them, wiping away traces of baking. Dirty water could hide sharp implements he missed, or have a heavy pot slip and crush a finger, or the water could be to hot and burn his hands. Morality had a dishtowel and was drying the assorted dishes on the rinse rack, humming as he went about, bounce in his step. He checked the baking cookies in the oven each time he put away a dish, commenting on how yummy they were looking and continued to speak upon what ever came to mind. All the dancing and distractedness could have him bumping into something and being injured, cut, scraped, fractured. Broken ceramic, sharp knifes cutting, heavy pots falling and, he stopped that train of thought.  He slunk around them, approaching the coffee pot, and was disappointed when he saw the pot empty. He slumped more, practically giving up. The day was long, he failed, he wanted a warm drink, he should just go to bed and wait till tomorrow to try again. But where the hell was his door though, in that maze of hallways and shadows.

The chime of the oven timer going off had him looking up to Dad’s flurry of excited movements as he brought out the hot pan of chocolate chip cookies and placed it on the stove to cool. The stove though, had a kettle on it, water close to boiling.   Logic moved to measure out loose leaf tea before submerging the infuser. The water slowly changed from clear to the golden brown he loved, if there was enough left over, he would gladly have some. But it was Logic’s tea, so he stared forlornly at the empty pot made for coffee, tucked away in the corner so that he wouldn’t interrupt the dance of Morality plating his cookies and Logic pouring three mugs of tea. Enough for everyone, but him. Expected. He can wait to make himself a cup of coffee once everyone was out of the kitchen.

Morality made his way out to the commons, the boisterous aspect calling out to Princey as he made his way. Logic placed the teapot, mugs and set little plates onto a tray beside teaspoons and a little sugar dish. The rational aspect was half way to the doorway when he stopped, turning toward him.

“Are you not joining us for cookies and tea? I am very sure that Morality made more than enough for the week.” Ha asked, looking perplexed.

“You only have three mugs there for tea.” Anxiety replied shrugging, burrowing his hands in his hoodies pockets.

“Exactly, one for Morality, you and I. Prince does not like tea, he made himself hot chocolate earlier.”

“Oh.” Was all he could say. The logical side only nodded and continued to walk to the sofa and the coffee table in front of it. Morality and Creativity were already munching down on the cookies. A mug of hot chocolate beside the closed for now sketchbook. He followed after, sitting on the floor beside the low-slung coffee table. Dad put a plate of cookies in front of him before he could reach for them himself. Logic passed out the mugs of tea, he took his straight black. The more unaltered caffeine he had, the better, and the cookies were sweet enough. He didn’t know how Morality dumped three spoonsful of sugar in without thought.

Down the hall, the darkened one he emerged from today, he saw the shadows slowly creep closer, trying to invade the bright space. He glared at the inky forms from over the rim of his mug, and watched them slink away till another day came. He could handle those later, no problem.

“What are you glaring at?” Princey sounded offended, again. His gaze was in the creative aspects direction, and the royal did not like the look he was displaying.

“Oh, just the nightmare monsters trying to sneak up behind you to eat you, you know, the usual.” He replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulder while biting down on a cookie.

“You… are an emo nightmare yourself.” Creativity said back, hesitating his sentence. He sounded unsure that his insult would be enough. Mark two for Anxiety.

“Thankyou.” He said back, that was sure to infuriate the fanciful aspect.

He hid his smirk behind his tea mug at the very offended look he received, keeping his laugh silent as Morality chided them both on manners during tea time, and carried the conversation on to more pleasant topics.

He noticed his open door just down the hall, nightlight still a beacon in the darkness.

~*~

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, for clarification, this is set before Thomas makes his videos, and all the relationship development in them. So Princey 'does not like him", and Anxiety and Princey banter a lot, like anybody who lives in close quarters with someone else. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the read,
> 
> Stedler


	6. Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety receives something special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is it, I didn't have a structured outline or anything for this story, I feel like I have written the points I wanted to write for this story and I am happy with it.   
> I do have other ideas but I'm not sure when I will get to them
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

 

It was going to be a night of tossing and turning. He could already tell that much. He tried counting, soft music, smells, stretching, tea, gosh he loved tea, and all sorts of pillows and blankets, nothing worked.

So, he laid in the almost to big bed half swallowed by the blankets surrounding him, and let his mind wander in that numb half sleep state that eventually toppled him on the wakeful side of consciousness. The darkness of his room was tempered by the amber nightlight and the all-consuming silence dampened by the soft drizzle of rain outside his window, tapping and pattering on the glass. He let the sound fill the room quietly, surrounding him and his chaotic thoughts and he paid attention to his breathing. Breathe in, three, four, slowly out, he was okay.

Cocooned by the steady grounding sound he kept his mind open to the bubbly thoughts that always floated up out of nowhere. He found himself floating in the in-between of here and aware and present, and the deeper unknown of subconscious wanting to drag him down into its murky depths once again. The colourful things floating up from subconscious let him pop them before Thomas noticed them and be surprised by what was inside the bubbles. Sometimes they were nice and he let them continue to float up to the front, but most times they were not nice and he threw away the thoughts. They would never get to Thomas if he could help it.

Tonight though, he realized there was a rather large bubble slowly making its way to him. It was shining gold, shimmering in the ambient amber light. It was special compared to all the others in usual colours of the rainbow. This bubble was for him to pop only, and what ever inside for him to keep. It was his. Something only for him in the fabric that was Thomas. Where everything was weaved together and you couldn’t go one way without accidentally tugging threads, it was the one thing that truly belonged to him and him only.

The bubble burst when it met him, shimmering gold coating him like fairy dust and strong valiant armour, protecting from the dark depths under him trying to swallow him up. He belonged above it, he would never go back to subconscious. The thought appeared; Gabriel, a name.

His name.

He liked that very much, and somehow, it made him smile. He turned over under his warm quilt and sheets, pulling them closer, finding himself very much tired now. The warm tea relaxing in scent and taste, and the soft patter of rain on his window a lullaby drifting him off in his sleep.

~*~

 

There was a knock at his door, waking him.  It was way to far into the night for it to be anyone else than Anxiety. Prince would be in Dreams and Logic would be getting well needed rest, if he wasn’t lost in a book, but by now he would have fallen asleep out of sheer tiredness.

“Come in.” He called sleepily, sitting up in his bed and finding his glasses off the nightstand, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The door creaked open a small bit, letting the morose aspect peak in, his hoodie letting him blend in easily with the shadows.

“I’m sorry I woke you, I just, didn’t know… no, no, go back to sleep, I’m bugging you. I can do this myself.” Anxiety mumbled quietly, already stepping out of the doorway.

“No, stay.” Morality managed to say before the youngest could escape. “If you came here, then you need something. You are never a bother, its what I’m for. Come on in kiddo.” He held out his hand welcomingly, letting him decide. Anxiety hung in the door way for a moment before he stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind him. The eldest let the youngest look over his room letting him get familiar and comfortable in the new environment. His windows had their curtains drawn back to let the bright moon and shining stars illuminate his room with soft midnight blue moonlight. The light sky-blue walls displayed pictures and paintings while the book case was filled with books, knickknacks, and more picture frames. The area rug under the window grounded an interesting looking spot that had pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, and other assortments of soft things piled near it. It was very… Dad like and he smiled when Anxiety seemed to relax the smallest bit.

Anxiety shuffled over to his bed and he noticed how red his eyes appeared, and his cheeks damp with already fallen tears. Morality shuffled over tugging blankets out of the way letting Anxiety have all the room on the plush bed that he needs.

“Oh, Ann, what happened?” He asked after Anxiety finally settled in a comfortable position.

“A-a nightmare, again. I kept it from Thomas, but still. I couldn’t go back to sleep and I didn’t know who to go to… Princey, I know would get mad no matter what I try to talk to him about, I’m pretty sure he hates me. Logic… I don’t think Logic would understand.”

“Well, you came to the right aspect, I’m always here to talk about stuff with. Do you want to talk about the dream?” He prompted. Anxiety just shrugged his shoulders, slightly shaking his head no. “Okay then. Do you want to talk about anything else?” Anxiety shrugged again, and started picking at his bunnyhugs’ sleeves cuffs. He could see the tears starting to form again, and how he tried to blink them back. “Oh Ann…” He carefully gathered up the distressed aspect in a hug, slightly surprised by how the other tensed up for a moment before slowly relaxing into the embrace. The youngest started to cry in earnest again, and he realised that this was the second time he has hugged Anxiety. Then again, when would he ever get a hug? Like Anxiety said, Prince didn’t like him very much, and Logic wouldn’t see the point, and that left him to give the youngest the affection he needs. Anxiety wrapped his arms around the parental aspect seeking the comfort he needed. Morality gave it freely.

“Oh, Ann, I’m so sorry.” He said quietly. “Nightmares can be a horrible experience, and you get the most of them, I’m sorry, I know, I know. You can cry Ann, let it out. No monster will get you here.” He moved hand to brush away the bangs that fell into Anxiety’s eyes, and he remembered how Thomas relaxes when people play with his hair. He ran his fingers through Anxiety’s hair, brushing it away from his eyes again and tucking it behind his ear. Anxiety did relax a little, tears slowing down. “You can stay here the night Ann, I know it is not fun to go back to a cold bed after a scare.”

“H-how would you know?” Anxiety hiccupped between stuttered breath.

“I have had my fare share of nightmares also before that became part of your job. I’ve helped Prince and Logic fall asleep after there own insecurities, but they never wanted me to stay with them.” Anxiety just nodded once before letting Morality continue to comb his fingers through his hair. Tears dried and breathing evened out, eyes fluttering shut softly every so often.

Morality leaned back in to his pillows letting Anxiety get comfortable around him before pulling the blanket over the both of them. He continued to run his fingers through the youngest’s hair, comforting the boy into a hopefully peaceful sleep, tempering the worries and scares the youngest held. Eyes were kept shut and breathing became constant and Morality smiled at the peaceful look of sleep. “Goodnight Ann.” He said quietly to the one resting.

“‘M nt Ann, its...” He heard Anxiety mumble out, not quite asleep yet then, interrupted by a yawn.

“Pardon?” He replied, surprised at the soft words.

“I’m not Ann.” He enunciated clearer before drifting off again.

“You have your name?”

“Ya…” Anxiety said and he finally settled into sleep.

“Well, what ever it is, it is a beautiful name, I’m Patton, but you already know that from the others speaking, and you know Roman and Logan to. When ever you are ready, I will listen.” Morality smiled, and settled into a peaceful sleep.

~*~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes last chapter. I'd like to say thankyou to everyone who has commented, kudos, and even just clicked on the link and read it, the feedback and seeing the numbers grow just make me smile so much.   
> Shoutout out to parsnipit and Prplzorua for all the inspiration there writing gave me, seriously, there writing is amazing, if you haven't read it yet, go check them out (how do i add hyperlinks?? there needs to be an easier way go get you guys to see the beauty of their work)
> 
> One final thing, as of posting day for chapter six, June 13 2017, the most recent Sander Side vid is 'Becoming a Cartoon' and we still don't know Anxiety's name (for those in the future reading this and already know what we here don't yet know). Gabriel is just my thoughts on what his name could be, I think it would be a nice one, but who knows what Thomas will choose? I have seen posts on tumblr on how his name could be revealed/when it will be revealed. I think that Anxiety will give it when they all realize that he doesn't like to be the bad guy/ antagonist and that he just wants to be there without ridicule, and they start to respect him in that fashion. Which might be two videos away from the cartoon one, one for the setup of respecting him/ understanding, and then the next one for them to be set in that way and for Anx to be comfortable enough to give it. But that's just my thoughts, who knows how close I am. 
> 
> Anyways, Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Any comments, questions and random thoughts are welcomed, I don't bite, and I would love to hear what you have to say.


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